Triple axel
by Scar7
Summary: Fan fiction of eight chapters that considers only episodes till mid-July, 2011. What would have happened if Roman had left Essen seeking his fortune elsewhere after the Steinkamps' failure? Would he be able to forget Deniz?
1. Chapter 1

**Author: Scar  
Beta-reader: Hannival Kinney, GeminiLove30  
Category: Soap opera  
Series: Alles was zählt  
Characters: Deniz Öztürk, Roman Wild, Annette Bergman, new characters  
Pairing: Deniz / Roman  
Genre: comedy, sentimental, what if…, AU  
Rating: PG 14, yellow  
Warnings: Slash, references to Marc and Jessica for a while, surprise (good or bad, it depends).**

**Notes: Fan fiction of eight chapters that considers only episodes till mid-July 2011. What would have happened if Roman had left Essen seeking his fortune elsewhere after the Steinkamps' failure? Would he be able to forget Deniz?**

**Written in May/June 2011.**

**Enjoy.**

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**1 / 8**

_The axel is the only jump in figure skating that starts forward on the left outer edge. In the air, the skater performs a one and a half rotation, landing on the back outside edge. During the flight, arms and legs must be kept as close as possible to the axis of rotation of the body._

_._

_._

That winter, the snow hadn't made it all the way up to Hamburg; but here, the streets were still covered. He pulled up the collar of his coat and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck. Strangely, he had forgotten how much colder the winters in Essen could be. As for the rest, hardly anything had changed since he had moved to Hamburg two years ago. The area around the sports Center, built more than twenty years before, was still the same: the tree-lined boulevards; the park, lush in any season; the buildings with red bricks; rides for the children; the ping-pong table; the half-pipe and, finally the corner to score some baskets. The street performers, however, had changed, or they had improved their technique: the murals looked like real works of art now.

He had always loved this neighborhood, a kind of floating island, brazen and unflappable in the middle of a town dedicated to the development of its steel factory and its more and more frantic business. Nothing compared to the history, art and elegance of Hamburg, though. He looked up to the windows of the apartment where he used to live with Deniz and, later, with Florian.

The lights were on.

He wondered who lived there now and, at the same time, tried to ignore the clutching sensation in his chest.

Then, his attention went to No. 7′s glass door. He was sorely tempted to go inside and surprise whomever may be there, or maybe drink something and warm himself up. But he had already promised to meet Annette first, before any of the others.

Poor thing, the flu had not spared her again this year. Sooner or later he would have tell her that working at the stand, with similar temperatures, was not ideal for her health.

He entered the place which decades before had been a shoe factory, and as he had done every goddamn day for the many years he lived in that town, slipped inside the elevator.

Annette was curled up on the couch in front of the television, a blanket on her legs, her hair tousled and a digital thermometer stuck in her ear. She greeted his entrance with a huge smile. Her eyes were bright from the fever, but also certainly from the thrill of seeing him again after six months. She left the thermometer on the coffee table, giving the display only a distracted glance. He waited for her to embrace him.

.

.

_The axel is a basic jump, but when a novice skater can perform it perfectly, he feels like a god. However, you should never underestimate a simple axel. Failing a axel is like stumbling on a road without potholes, but no less insidious. At that point, you have to pause and review: technique, posture, muscle tension, training._

_Going back with your mind and your beliefs may be more difficult than you expected. Just like returning to a place where you lived for one third of your life; being able to recognize every corner, every single breath, but yet still to be too scared._

_._

_._

"So, your return has nothing to do with the fact that you've asked me a dozen questions about Deniz in the last two weeks, has it?"

Roman tried to show his most innocent face. "This is my only reason." He gave an affectionate pat to his bag, which contained the material for his new project.

Annette muttered doubtfully. "And why can't I see it?"

"For good luck," Roman replied. "I prefer talking to the Steinkamp first, hoping he'll finance me."

"No harm in trying," she sighed as she dabbed her nose with a crumpled tissue. "God only knows how much he needs it after the crash two years ago. Hopefully he still wants to take a risk. "

"This ice show will be a success, trust me."

"If a thing is perfect for you, it doesn't mean that it's the same for the rest of the world," Annette rattled off, sarcastic.

"Yeah," Roman sighed sadly, "so I've been told."

The blue loft's heavy door opened again. Lena came hopping in, vigorously rubbing her livid hands. "Hey, Roman!"

"Hello, snow-girl!" he exclaimed, joining her. They embraced, exchanging a kiss to each other's cheeks.

"Alexander?" Lena asked her sister.

"He's sleeping like an angel," Annette answered.

"Good," Lena replied with a bright smile toward Roman. Who would have thought that she would have become the loving and caring mother Roman saw before him. He still couldn't believe it. Especially considering that just two years before, with a dependent child and two failed marriages behind her, Lena was sleeping with his underage brother. On the other hand, Florian had had a real crush on her. In the end, their great love story had ended like all the great stories.

"There're sausages with tomatoes, if you're hungry," Annette said.

Lena refused her offer with a low moan, taking off her heavier clothing. "The Center gave a party celebrating the Essen Cup… By the way, Ingo will be here in about an hour at most," she added. "I'm exhausted. I need my bed right now." Lena gave Roman and Annette each a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight," she said as she opened her room's door.

"Well…I'm going to go visit the Center," Roman said, hastily grabbing his scarf. "I want to say hello to Ingo and the girls. Then I'm going to go to the hotel, I hope they'll still have some rooms available."

Annette stopped him, grabbing his arm and glaring at him with a perfectly arched eyebrow. "First of all, you don't need to look for a room. And then…why do you wanna go to the Center to greet Ingo? Are you for real? You heard Lena, he will be here in less than an hour."

"You're forgetting the girls," he explained.

"Roman?"

His shoulders deflated. "Okay, okay, okay!" he snapped frantically, like a rabbit caught in the act. "I just want to have a look. I don't even think Deniz is there."

Annette sketched a skeptical smile. "He's Ben Steinkamp's assistant, he organized the Essen Cup and probably even that party… and you don't think he'll be there? Come on, Roman!"

"What's going to happen? Do you think I'll get upset?"

Annette stared into his eyes intently. "I dunno, but he might. And you haven't seen him for two years. Are you so sure you'll still like him? He could be prematurely bald, hunched… with a huge belly, not to mention that it has become such a ugly …"

"Of course," Roman said, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "I know what he looks like…I know it too well."

"Oh…really?" Annette asked, surprised. "And when did you see him?"

"Every day for the last two months," he said, exhaling a long sigh.

"What?" Annette was shocked. "You didn't tell me anything."

"A giant billboard," Roman began, a hint of irritation in his voice. And at volume that was becoming louder and louder. "Four meters per two, in front of the apartment in Hamburg. And, to my knowledge, it was still there this morning."

"Oh," she replied, blanket slipping from her shoulders.

"Exactly. Oh!"

Roman narrowed his eyes in a grimace of theater grief and sobbing, slumped on the couch close to his friend, his head resting on her breast.

"And what was he like?"

He raised his head with a grim look.

"I was only asking!"

Roman got up, waving his arms frantically above his head like a madman. "Four metres per two, with abs that I don't even remember, a pair of underwear and a bit of gel in his hair. Honestly, what should a Calvin Klein's model like?"

Annette nodded her head in commiseration.

"And because of that, me and Marc…" he added.

Annette straightened her head so quickly, her neck let out a little crack. "You and Marc…"

Roman sighed, returning to cry softly.

"Roman?" she insisted, "you and Marc…what?"

"Me and Marc…we broke up."

"Ah," she said laconically. "Because of a poster? I think it's a bit excessive to split up for that, don't you?"

Roman breathed deeply. "Not if you peeked out the window every day for the last two months."

"You watched him?"

"I have to admit it: I devoured him with my eyes. I think Marc finally had enough when I fell on the street after I started walking with my nose in the air."

"I see…" she agreed. "And so…what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly with an innocent glare, "just checking if he still makes me feel the same."

"Oh, sure," Annette said with an ironic tone, "what effect could the 6′ 0" original have on you when you've got a four metres per two fake?"

"6′ 1″," he interjected.

"What?"

"Deniz is 6′ 1″ tall," Roman explained.

.

.

_Many factors can affect the success of an axel. Good muscular tension is what you always have to keep in mind. Weights and constant training allow you to acquire the necessary strength, while dance gives you the elegance and grace necessary for performing a clean jump. A good diet, nutrient and light, and regular sleep are essential in any sport; but more so in a discipline where technique should always combine with a strong expression in your face and your gestures._

_._

_._

Roman opened the Center's door, and in a moment left behind the dark and foggy coldness of the road. Similarly, he'd wanted to leave behind the tension that had accompanied him from the start. But it had tripled in the exact moment it was hit by bright lights and music playing in the background. Constanze and Brigitte were the first people to notice his arrival. They rushed to greet him, stamping his face with multi-colored lipstick kisses. Then they each linked an arm with him, one by each side, and dragged him playfully to the middle of the room…poolside.

Richard Steinkamp saw him and waved him over. He greeted Roman with a handshake and half a hug; asking the reporters to take a picture of them in the middle of the gesture, formal and warm at the same time. Among Richard Steinkamp's many qualities was the ability to ride the wave of fame, even when it was reduced to little more than a ripple. Surely, despite time and failures, someone still held Roman Wild in high esteem. No one in male figure skating had done better than him in Germany. Not up until now, at least.

Roman saw old Steinkamp stretch his neck, as though looking for something or someone. He then quietly turned to Constanze, who was standing nearby, motionless and straight like a graceful and reverent pole.

"With Deniz, Mr. Steinkamp. Down, on the ice rink," she whispered, leaning slightly closer to him.

The man nodded, unable to hide a bit of disappointment on his face. "Too bad," he began, speaking more to himself than to Roman, "but the essential has already been done." Finally, he grabbed a couple of flutes of champagne from a stray tray and invited Roman to drink with him.

_Deniz was at the ice rink._

Roman's mind began to work feverishly and he could see Deniz as in a picture, old but still so vivid: trying to perform an elegant jump, challenging his lanky build and gravity; or decked out in his hockey uniform, running like a demon towards the opponent's goal.

After he was filled by Richard with lots of information about who or what would put the Steinkamp brand back on top, he waited to go unnoticed and then casually walked to the stairs leading to the basement. But he was met by Ingo, who threw his arms around his neck in a sudden assault, wearing a stupid smile that smelt of beer.

"Why didn't you tell me I'd find you here? Nostalgia?" Ingo said with a theatrical wink.

"A bit," Roman confirmed, beginning to shake with impatience. "I'm going to take a look at the ice rink, then I'll be back to the loft. Annette invited me to spend the night with you guys. Is that okay?"

"Are you kidding, buddy?" Ingo trilled, rubbing Roman's head and messing up the hair that Roman had miraculously flattened. "By the way…how is my soulmate? The sober one?"

"Mmm…not so good," Roman lied, combing his hair back with his fingers and rearranging the fringe on his forehead. "She's missing you, I bet."

Ingo's face suddenly became serious. "I'd better go, then. You do not mind if…"

"Go ahead, attentive husband. Run! I wouldn't let her wait a second longer if I were you," Roman said, shamelessly. He watched Ingo's retreating back for a few seconds; he was actually running! Then he took a last glance around and started down the steps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for reading**

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**2/8**

As he approached his target, the temperature was becoming significantly lower, equaling the frostiness absent from the Center. The sound of two voices echoed in the cold air. He had never forgotten one of them.

_"I'm starving," _said the first one.

_"One last lap and I'm done," _reassured the other one.

Roman hid behind a curve of the lower tiers, an optimal position for observing unseen. His heart was beating wildly. Deniz was standing, his back resting against the Plexiglas, and very attentively following a young skater's routine. He was, of course, Essen Cup's winner and the future promise of the risen Steinkamp Sports & Wellness. Light hair, thin physique, twenty years old at most. If he hadn't been so young and so blond, Roman might have mistaken him for his doppelganger, at the top of his own career.

The boy performed a triple lutz, so perfect that Roman had to bite his tongue to stop himself from cheering; then, after a graceful landing, skated to the boards next to Deniz. They exchanged a few words that Roman failed to grasp. Deniz put the gold medal, which obviously he had won a few hours before, around the boy's neck and using the tape, pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

Roman instinctively shut his eyes. His temples began throbbing rhythmically as something sharp sliced his heart. He opened his eyes and they were still kissing. He saw Deniz take the boy by the hand and lead him in the direction of his own improvised hiding spot.

At first Roman backed away with cautious steps, but then he turned and ran towards the changing rooms. By habit he opened the door to the men's, went in and closed it behind him. After a few moments, he realized it hadn't been a smart move. Deniz's and boy's voices were approaching. They were coming in.

"Shit!" he hissed through his lips.

After a few seconds of panic, he decided to hide behind the red lockers, praying inside his head not to be seen. He was just in time, as the door opened. From his location, Roman couldn't see them, but unfortunately he had good ears: the wet kisses, the rustling of clothes, the heavy breathing from excitement were all too familiar to him, especially in this place. When he heard the roar of the water and their laughter, he thought he would die.

But he would kill Annette first. Why hadn't she told him that Deniz was already dating someone else?

As soon as he heard the rattling of the shower curtain, Roman tiptoed out from behind the row of lockers and proceeded to carefully open the locked door. Unfortunately, while he was busy not making a sound, using slow and studied movements, he had to hear the ever more frantic audio coming from the shower.

_"Come here!"_

_"Don't you know that we should keep ourself in view of the regional competitions, Mr. Öztürk?"_

_"Sex is natural doping, everybody knows that."_

The other boy started laughing heartily.

Roman swallowed a sob. He finished turning the key, and then turned the handle. As he did so, he heard Deniz's voice again, loud and clear over the sound of the water.

"_And you're the best, after all. The best ever."_

Roman stood petrified, clinging to the open door as if he were afraid of falling. The tears clouded his eyes in an instant. As he slipped into the corridor, he felt a huge fire burning in his chest and chills over his whole body.

"Fuck!" he muttered through his lips. "Fuck!"

Then he slammed the door, making as much noise as possible, and finally ran away.

When Roman got to the loft, Ingo and Annette were running up the iron ladder towards their bedroom. A few seconds were enough to understand that something had gone wrong, and both could imagine what.

"You two! Down! Right now!"

Despite their complaints and Ingo, already looking forward to a night of fireworks, they turned and came back down the stairs. They stood in front of their friend as if they were two schoolboys, caught in a nasty prank.

"What can we do for you…" began Ingo softly, giving his wristwatch a quick glance before staring Roman determinedly in the eye, "at 12:15 a.m.?"

"Why didn't you tell me that Deniz was dating that…that," stammered Roman, in his agitation.

"Justin," Annette interrupted.

"Justin?" Roman clucked his tongue, twisting his lips.

"Göbel," Ingo completed quickly.

"You should have told me. I found out…they were two steps away from me! And what did I do? I ran away!"

Ingo wrinkled his eyebrows, confused. Yet at the same time, a little mischievous smile surfaced on his lips.

"Why did our cute Hase run away?"

Annette leaned towards him. "He's crushing on Deniz again," she whispered, as if afraid that Roman would hear.

Ingo's mouth made a perfect 'O'. "Ne! Really?"

"It wasn't fun!" Roman pointed out, angrily pressing his lips together.

Ingo took a deep breath, put his arm around Roman's shoulders and pulled him to sit by his side on the couch. Annette followed them, sitting on the opposite side.

"Hase," he began in an affectionate and jovial tone. "How long has it been since you left, behind your bum, Essen, your friends and most importantly…Deniz?"

"What does that matter now?" Roman asked, sullen.

Suddenly, Ingo's look was anything but jovial.

"Two years," Roman surrendered, but before his friend could interrupt him, he added, "But I thought about him all the time."

"While you were with someone else?" Ingo grabbed Roman's chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing Roman to look him straight in the eye. "Do you have any idea how many pieces he was in?" Roman tried to interrupt, but Ingo sealed his mouth with the palm of his hand. "Do you know what we've done to put all those little pieces back together? And I think that work hasn't been done perfectly."

"Ingo means," Annette interjected; Roman's head snapped towards her, his mouth at last freed from Ingo's hand. "Deniz has just gotten back on track. He's worked like a slave in the last couple of years. He had to emigrate to America and…"

"He was a model in America, not a miner," Roman said firmly.

"But he didn't want to go," Annette continued. "He'd wanted to stay here…with his family, his friends. And he definitely did not want to go back to modeling; he had sworn that he was done with that world. But when Nina called him from LA, he still hadn't been able to pull himself together. He'd still had too many debts, and working at the Center couldn't give certainty to anyone. What else should he have done?"

"It wasn't my fault if he had troubles!" Roman cried, irritated.

"No, of course not," agreed Ingo. "But he'd wanted you at his side, and instead he had been abandoned by the people he cared about most. Do you have any idea how he must have felt back then?"

Roman shrugged. "And me? I was homeless, jobless, full of problems."

"So, why do you now want to give them to him?" Ingo asked. "Has Hamburg suddenly lost all its Marc-appeal for our poor Hase?"

"He and Marc are taking a break," his wife told him, softly.

"Marc and I broke up for good!" Roman snapped, forgetting that there were sleeping people in the house.

"Because of the billboard?" interrupted Annette, puzzled.

"Billboard? What billboard?" Ingo asked, intrigued.

"Four per two, a pair of underwear and a bit of hair gel. Don't ask!" Annette explained briefly.

Ingo nodded, pretending to understand, but something told him that wasn't the real issue.

"Things weren't going well between us for some months, though," Roman added. "After we had finished the ice show, one morning – we looked at each other – and we just had nothing to say. Like two strangers."

"And now you wanna break Deniz's heart again?" said Ingo, not really wanting or needing a response. He encircled Roman's neck with his big strong hand and pulled him close so he could again, look into his eyes. "Listen to me, Hase. Remember when I told you to stay away from him, for your own sake; to look around for other bunnies?" Roman nodded, ruefully. He regretted that time. "Well, now I'm gonna give you the same advice: stay away from him…for his sake."

"What Ingo is trying to tell you," Annette said, calmly, "is that Deniz has just found his balance. We don't know whether this guy is important or not, and it doesn't really matter. He's more content now than we have seen him in months."

Annette knew Roman pretty well, he was unable to take advice from anyone; so she reasoned in a hurry and decided to just spill all the beans.

"First of all…" she began, "Deniz knows you've been with Marc all this time."

"Did you tell him that?" Roman asked, incredulous.

"There was no need," Ingo replied.

"Do you remember when you sent us the tickets for your ice show?" Annette asked. Roman nodded.

"Well…Deniz found out about it, we don't know how, and insisted on coming too. He wanted to try with you again." She looked at Ingo. "What were his exact words, honey?"

_"Now that Roman has realized his dream, maybe he will talk to me again. I can't believe it's over,"_ the man recited in Deniz's deep voice.

Roman swallowed, shutting his eyes. He could imagine Deniz's hopeful look and even more, what had happened next.

"After the end of Act One, he wanted to meet you, and instead…"

"…he saw me and Marc together," Roman concluded in a whisper, his eyes suddenly wet. "Shit!"

"After, we didn't see him again that evening," Ingo said. "He called me an hour later to tell me that he was on the train back to Essen and that he had decided to accept Nina's proposal for LA."

Roman rubbed his face with one hand, holding back the tears that were beginning to knock from behind his eyelids. Even if he had seen Deniz that night, he would have been annoyed, because he believed he had finally found happiness with Marc, his 'balance'. Because, he wouldn't have allowed anyone to spoil that, least of all Deniz and his proposal of reconciliation. And now, he wanted to do the same thing. Just like when Marc had come to Essen, two years before, and messed with his relationship with Deniz. It was a circle that would never be closed.

"I wan…I wanna," Roman began, after a deep breath. "I just want to know if he's happy. I want to see it with my own eyes."

Annette sighed, exasperated. "Of course he's happy!" Her features were hard, as if she were about to explode, completely forgetting about her sleeping sister and nephew. "He must be! He has a very good job, money, a house and above all…a child!"

Roman stiffened as if a bucket of ice water had just been thrown in his face.

"WHAT?"

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Any tiny tiny review?


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